


Jim's no good very bad day

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack, M/M, Nonsense, lots of swear words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23878093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: fanfiction is serious business.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Jim's no good very bad day

Jim opened his eyes slowly, his vision still swimming. He winced. There was still a distinct throbbing sensation at the back of his head where something, or someone had come straight out of nowhere, hitting like a runaway freight truck. Even better, that same something or someone was apparently still pounding away, a dull distant thudding which sounded suspiciously and oddly specifically like a hammer falling rhythmically on a pillowcase which was lying atop a corrugated metal sheet...oh wait. Was the sound in his head, or outside it? Had that blow deprived him of a little more than a few moments of consciousness?

He pulled himself to his feet wearily, running his fingers along the dented shipping crates of the dimly lit warehouse searching for something, anything stable to hold onto. In this line of work you had to. “You try being the only one in this thrice damned city”, he thought. “You try being the only one in this place with a fucking ounce of sanity, just trying to hold this shit all together with nothing but the force of sheer will.” A small voice in the back of his head whispered, “Then there’s the Bat.” Right. In his line of work you had to. You held onto any sliver of hope, any ally you could muster or you risked crumbling like a deck of cards; and by God, (or whatever real or imaginary powers-that-be) these had been a seriously crazy past few days, what with the goddamned Joker on the lose again and half of Gotham practically on fire. His fires. His messes to clean up as usual.

The thudding intensified, along with the migraine steadily building behind his eyes. Nope, it was definitely not just inside his head. Jim rounded a corner, flashlight and pistol at the ready. He squinted in the darkness.

“..Batman?”

The Bat had swiftly drawn his cape around himself, but the damage had been done. From under the cape peeked a familiar (and most unwelcome) white painted face and a mop of unruly green, the crimson lips grinning wider than humanly possible. A pink tongue emerged, wiggling obscenely.

“Oh, hey there Jimbo. How’s it going?”

Jim blinked, not quite comprehending. “Or maybe you don’t want to.” said the little voice in his head. “What.. What the fuck?” was all that emerged from his mouth. 

“Oh don’t look so terrified pal,” smirked the Joker. “My buddy and me here are just uh..catching up on old times, ain’t that right snookums?” He turned towards his companion, patting him on the cheek fondly.

“Shut up.” was the harsh reply.

“Oh, don’t let Jimbo here ruin the mood. He can join in too if he wants to y’know.”

“SHUT UP.” 

“Possessive aren’t cha? Mm I do so love it when you get fiesty, baby.” 

The Joker pressed a sloppy wide mouthed kiss to the bottom of the other man’s jaw. The Bat, for all purposes could’ve been a living statue. 

Jim stared, a vein in his temple throbbing. Suddenly everything clicked. All those sleepless nights spent up to his neck in paperwork or barking commands over the radio. All those hours spent tracing, tailing, chasing after that goddamn freakshow. All those hours spent cleaning up his delightful “incidents” after the Bat inevitably hauled his lily white ass into Arkham, only to have him escape time after time after time. All the fucking bereavement letters he’d had to send out. All the good cops he’d lost to that deranged maniac and his gang. All the grieving families he’d had to console. 

Bloody fucking HELL. There was no way this was real. It had to be a mistake. A bad dream. Some kind of toxin induced nightmare perhaps. Jim started pinching himself, first on the wrist, then on the face, then on the nose when it didn’t work. He contemplated slapping himself, then wondered if it would look silly. Look silly in front of the Joker? --Wait, what? Suddenly he recalled something, a sliver of memory he had filed at the back of the “do not touch with a ten foot” pole folder.

He’d once said casually, “Y’know, I don’t care if he’s criminally insane or not, I wouldn’t shed a tear if some psycho got it into his mind to just shank his crazy ass down there in Arkham. Bet there are loads of people just lining up to try.” The Bat had seemed discomfited then, departing without a word. The next he’d heard, the Joker’s cell had been reinforced and his personal babysitters replaced, courtesy of an anonymous donor. Jim realized that if he had the courage to probe further, there might be others, fragments of memory too nebulous or disturbing to bring to the surface. Like the last time someone had floated the idea of having the Joker declared fit to stand trial..

“So uh, we gonna stand here all day or what?” a voice interrupted his thoughts. “Because as much as I love having your dick inside me this guy here is kind of creeping me out, and not in a very good way. I mean I usually prefer it when the audience participates y’know..”

Jim fainted.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very sorry. have a good day folks, stay safe. stay sane. or not. That's ok too.


End file.
